Rest: A Remix

rest: cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength

When I wake up to the quiet of a home hidden in the woods with a picturesque landscape of age-worn trees and red clay earth, I am immediately grateful. I am often still, for at least a few minutes, as I relish in remnants of rest from insomnia-induced sleep. I have learned over the years that when I get up too fast, the day is dizzying and rushed, but when I take my time and rise slowly, I feel more grounded and calm. As I indulge in the third month of a sacred summer of rest I am intentional about not waking up to an alarm clock and not jumping up to start the day.  

As a Virgo I am intentional about most things, including the weighted blanket that clings to my body like a sheath and is somehow not pushed to floor from sometimes restless slumber. My dogs are snuggled next to me and each other and I know they will immediately stir and insist on the first of our daily rituals if/when I move, so my stillness is suddenly stiff, my need for a few more minutes of rest a necessary need. The curved television has fallen in sleep mode since I was already asleep, and unable to respond when Netflix asked “Are you still watching?” after the third or fourth consecutive episode of Schitt’s Creek.

I believe that cultivating peace in my life is my greatest reward. After recovering from years of people pleasing, unending work, and sabotage, I have been intentional and strategic about rest. I am stingy with yeses, unapologetically a homebody, and I refuse to engage in/with/around mess.

The pandemic, however, did a thing.  I was privileged to be able to work from home, but “working” from home translated to always working. I wrestled with time management as dozens of people perpetually pulled on my time. While I am usually able to protect my bandwidth through parenthetical hours of availability, my Zoom calendar was wide open because I felt guilty about claiming my time as my own when I didn’t have to leave the house.  My daily wardrobe of bare feet and comfortable pants lessened the preparation between meetings, but perpetual fatigue settled in and I got used to being tired all the time. The tiredness was bone deep but different from the exhaustion I felt from undiagnosed illness. This tired was earned and reluctantly repeated for thirteen months following the initial quarantine. I learned to overcompensate and operate on auto-pilot, but felt ultimately unmotivated, uninspired and disinterested with anything except sleep. Zoom fatigue spilled over into weekends and the rehearsed smile I perfected over the years disappeared behind my well-worn mask in public.

My doctor suspected I was depressed, but I insisted I was just an introvert. I refuse to accept diagnoses that don’t fit. I was burned out and ambivalent, not depressed and sad. Sometimes, though, it is hard to understand and know the difference.

Everyone has a different relationship to time, based on their jobs, families, responsibilities, health, etc., and while we can’t control time, or stop time, or make time, we can carve out time for self-care, creativity and rest. I had a recent revelation that just because my time isn’t allotted, doesn’t mean my time is available. I have the luxury, for the first time in a long time, to set aside time for rest.

Sometimes rest means going to bed early, getting up late, or taking delicious day naps when you can afford it

Other times rest means unplugging and going offline

not answering calls, emails, or text messages

watching trash TV, listening to podcasts, re-reading a novel

listening to music, watching a movie, going for a walk

taking a trip, getting a pedicure or manicure or massage

making plans, making love, making progress on your dreams

Black folk are not often afforded rest without guilt, but we have to normalize self-care. @who_she_naje’s anthem, Go Lay Down, did not hit like it did over the past week for nothing. As people begin to ease into whatever the new normal of post-pandemic life will be (we are not post-pandemic yet—between variants of the virus and low vaccination rates we have a long way to go), I plan to be as still as possible for as long as possible.